A Perfect World
by Bishou no Marina
Summary: (*Sequel to My Other Name*) Under the leadership of Queen Rose, Albion is entering an Age of Enlightenment. Its people have official representation at court for the creation and passage of laws, new Heroes are awakening, and Rose has reunited Albion's oldest protectors. But the Spire remains, and Rose is plagued by dreams of other worlds and memories that are not her own.
1. Chapter 1: The Red Rose

_Hi everyone! This is a sequel, so if you have not read My Other Name, don't read this, yet! Not only will it spoil the ending of the first book; it will make absolutely no sense without it. That said, if you've already been through the first book, I hope you enjoy this one. :) Thank you for reading, and for taking the time to let me know what you think of it, if you do!  
_

* * *

_Where…am I?_

I was perched on the slippery roof of a grand farmhouse overlooking a sprawl of lush fields and orchards. It was morning, and I was grateful for the warmth of the sun. The cold, damp fabric of my white dress clung to my skin as though I had been here all night, catching the dew.

I had no memory of this place.

_How did I come to be here?_

I searched my mind, gripping the wet slats of the roof carefully. A fall from this height would not harm me, but it would certainly alarm anyone who might hear me. I frowned. Somehow, I could not remember what I had been doing before I woke here. Something was deeply amiss.

"There are loads of bugs in this field. Fancy killin' some?"

I spotted movement near the house. Two girls were leaning against a low stone wall. The smaller one picked up a wooden sword and jumped over, into a freshly tilled field. The older girl clapped her hands together and cheered as the young one swung her mock sword with reckless abandon, crushing and whacking her way through a small swarm of beetles. Her form was nonexistent, but her strikes were brutally effective nevertheless.

"And another bug goes _squish_! Good one, sis!" The older sister giggled behind her hands, watching as the last of the beetles met its end. "I don't see any more. Shall we do something else? We've got chickens to round up, or we could look for those bottles I set up for you to shoot at. Bet you half my dessert tonight you can't find them all before Mum and Dad get back!"

As they moved closer, I felt my stomach knot with worry. Something about them was familiar. But more than that, something was very, very wrong. The girls seemed to live here, but their clothes were patched and shabby, and their faces were dirty. The older sister seemed to have outgrown some of her clothing completely. Her midriff was bare, and her ragged sleeves were too short. Her pigtails were lank and stringy, held away from her face with a band of cloth. The little one seemed better-clothed, but not by much. Her shoes were far too large for her feet.

It was illogical that the children of such clearly prosperous farmers should look like beggars. Just seeing them like that made me heartsick. I wanted to help them.

Nevertheless, their parents were obviously away, and I did not want to frighten them. I waited for them to turn away, and then stepped off the roof. As I fell, my wings burst unbidden from my back, and I stifled a gasp of surprise. They moved forcefully, scattering feathers over the ground, and before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I was _flying_. I alighted in the branches of a tree beside the house and clung to its trunk for support.

"This is not real," I whispered. "You are dreaming, Rose. You _can't_ fly."

The sun was beginning to set—another impossibility. I sighed, relieved. Now that I knew that I was simply asleep, I felt much more at ease. The only thing that troubled me now was that generally, when I realized that I was dreaming, I woke immediately. And I had never before had a dream that felt so…_real_.

"That was a fantastic day, but I'm worn out. Let's go to bed. Mum said that next time they go to market, they'll take both of us with them! You'd love it there, little Sparra."

My breath left me, and a wave of pain rushed in to fill the empty space. I now recognized the smaller girl. I had held her in my arms in another place, and another time. Her tiny body had been broken and bleeding. With Reaver's help, I had saved her life and given her to Theresa the Seer. She had been waiting for us. She had known we were coming, and that we would find my mother in time to save her. But we had been too late to save her sister…my namesake. The knowledge had haunted me ever since, though I tried desperately to put it from my mind.

_You cannot change Time_, I repeated to myself, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. _It is neither logical nor rational for me to blame myself for her death. Lucien killed her, and I would have saved her if it was at all within my power._

But it had never been within my power. And so I had inherited her name, and according to Theresa, a part of her would always live on through me so long as I remained true to the legacy of her love. I carried those words with me, always, but it did not stop the nightmares. I had seen one child with a bullet in her chest. It was all too easy to imagine another.

Night fell, and the sounds of crickets and frogs filled the air around me. One of the girls lit a candle. I could see into their room from my place in the tree. It was Sparrow. She was peering through the window, her blue eyes large with curiosity. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the melancholy melody of a music box.

Rose—for it could only be Rose, though I had never known what she looked like—came to the window and looked out at the darkness for the barest moment. She looked terrified, but her voice was calm as she reassured her sister. "It's nothing, little Sparra. Go to sleep."

Sparrow turned and ran from the room. Rose stole another frightened glance out the window and followed her.

I dropped lightly to the ground.

"Aw, come on, get back to bed. There's nothing fun to do here, now."

Sparrow emerged from the house, but Rose remained in the doorway. Neither of them noticed my presence.

"Where are you going?" Rose cried. "Please, you can't, it's dangerous out there!"

The little girl looked back at her sister, and in the moonlight, I saw her face clearly. Her eyes were grave with a profoundly adult sadness.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie," she whispered, "but this isn't real. We never had a Mum and Dad, we never had a home…and I…I saw you die."

Rose seemed unable or unwilling to hear her. "You're going to get me in trouble!"

With what was clearly an enormous effort, Sparrow turned her back on her, wiping her eyes. Her face was set in a determined grimace. She had hardened her heart against her sister's pleas. She began to run. I followed her, jogging though a field of daffodils while she ran along the path that led to the front gate.

"Don't leave me alone again! I don't want to be alone anymore!" Rose was weeping, now. She let out a desperate cry. "Don't go!"

It was too much. I turned, wanting to go back for her, to comfort her even though none of this was real. But Sparrow picked up her pace, dashing through the gate, and I could not help but to follow her. The dream seemed to demand it.

"Nooooo!" Rose screamed, her voice breaking.

The child who would one day become my mother slowed as her sister's cry faded away. The path ahead was lined with corpses on pikes that burned like grotesque torches in the night. Sparrow walked on, undaunted.

I dashed ahead and stood in her way, screening a severed head on a pike from her view. "Sparrow, please go back to your sister. This is no place for you."

She did not react, and her body passed through mine as though I were a ghost. I pinched the flesh between my finger and thumb with one hand. I wanted to wake up. This was no dream. It was a nightmare.

The music box was growing louder all the time, and as we climbed a set of stone steps, I saw it. It was the very same music box I had given first to Sabine, and then to Logan. I was not surprised to see it, here. It had been in my thoughts every day, lately. It was a relic of the Old Kingdom, and it was the key to all of my greatest hopes for Albion's future…and my brother's. Sparrow hesitated for a moment, then lifted it from its pedestal. A flash of white light blinded me for an instant, and then she was gone. I stared. In her place was a tall, slender woman in a deep crimson gown of silk that left her shoulders bare. She held a scrap of paper in her hand.

She was my twin in every way. Her hair was very long and dark, and her almond-shaped eyes were precisely the same shade of brown as mine. Her pale skin glowed faintly. Against the blood-red fabric of her dress, it looked nearly translucent. She regarded me with polite interest, and absolutely no surprise.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am you, of course," she replied, "and I am quite real. For simplicity's sake, think of me, for now, as an aspect of yourself that is a bit more…aware of the consequences of your actions since opening the door to all other doors. You are sleeping, but you are not dreaming. You are experiencing a memory. Our mother's memory. This is an event, and nothing you do here will have an effect. What it will do is have an effect on you. You are treading a dangerous path, and you must place your trust in me if you are to maintain your sanity in the coming months. Take this."

She held out the paper, and I took it slowly.

"Read it, please."

I lowered my eyes to the note.

_Today is going to be another brilliant day, I just know it. Mum and Dad have gone to town to buy us lots of food and toys because they love us so much. So it's just me and little Sparrow. We're going to have so much fun! I'm so lucky to have the best little sister in the world. I know we'll always be together and nothing bad will ever, ever happen to us while we stay here._

My heart sank. "This is…" I could think of no words for what it was. The pain behind the cheerful falsehood of the note was far too great for words.

The red Queen nodded. "Yes, I know. This is Rose's idea of a perfect world. Now, look again, and see the reality of her life."

The note had changed while I looked at my twin. It was a tattered bit of thick, brown butcher's paper, the kind one used to wrap meat from the market.

_I managed to find a nice piece of charcoal this morning, so I can finally start writing again. I still haven't finished putting down the story about the warrior girl who fights snow monsters. Sparrow always likes listening to that one—sends her right to sleep! It's not so easy for me. Winter is getting colder and soon our shelter won't be anywhere near enough. We'll freeze to death if we don't find something better. And the family of travelers who let us stay in their caravan last winter haven't come back this year. It was nice having someone to look after us for a change. If only we could find some secret passage into the castle... We're small enough that no one would notice us. We'd be like ghosts, or like mice, hiding in the walls. We'd tip-toe out when everyone goes to bed and raid the larder. I bet they have so much food in there, they'd never even notice. Bah, day-dreaming isn't going to get us anywhere. You have to think of something, Rose. You're the big sister, remember?_

I looked up again, searching the other woman's face. My face. The eyes were sharp and hard. They demanded my undivided attention, and I gave it.

"I do not know when you and I will meet again, so listen well. Keep that diary page. It will be in your hand when you wake, as proof of the reality of this moment. Your mind has been reaching out, Rose. In your sleep, you have been seeing into the thoughts and dreams of others like us."

"Like us?" I reached instinctively for her hand.

"Rulers of Albion. Archons descended from William Black."

Our fingers touched. An overwhelming surge of information inundated my mind with images, sounds, and thoughts. She took several steps backward, bumping into a broken railing.

"You…you're _marrying Reaver_?" Her composure had come crashing down the moment our skin met.

"His name is Adrian," I said calmly, smiling. "And yes, I am. Tomorrow. Or today, depending on what time it is, now."

I smiled because I did not want her to know that something very unnerving had come through from her touch. She had been attempting to screen something from me, to bury it so deeply in static nonsense that I would not notice it, but I now knew that I could not trust this woman, even if she was a version of myself…because she did not trust me, and because she did not know Reaver's true name, despite one very, very important fact.

"You killed Theresa, too," I said. "I only began to truly See after her death. You Saw just now, as I did. She is dead in your Albion, as well. You must know the truth about her, then."

"Yes," she said impassively. "She was a broken soul."

"How did you do it?" Was Reaver still alive in her world? Had she killed him, herself? His true name had been his only hope for salvation. And she did not know what it was.

She lowered her eyes. "I'd rather not talk about that. I'm sure you understand."

"I do." I fixed my eyes on her face, taking in every detail, searching for information. "I'm sure you understand that I cannot trust a woman who has killed Theresa of Oakvale without knowing Reaver's name."

"It is _Adrian_, as you said," she replied, glaring at me. "And I am only trying to _help_ you."

"Adrian _what_?" I asked quietly.

The Rose in red vanished, along with the world around us, into darkness.

* * *

"Rose, wake up, darling. Rose. I'd rather not have to _shake_ you, but you must _wake up_."

I woke very slowly. I felt a muscular arm pull me close to a smooth, bare chest while a hand tilted my chin upward with two fingers.

"Rose?"

My eyes were having difficulty focusing. A lamp had been lit, and I blinked several times as I adjusted to the light. Reaver's handsome face was very close to mine, his brow knitted with worry.

"Adrian…thank the gods," I sighed, relieved.

"Another nightmare, _ch__érie_?" he guessed, propping himself up on one elbow and draping his other arm over my hip.

I nodded. "So it would seem."

"Well," he said, kissing my hair, "it is over and done with, now. You are safe. But I believe you have been sleepwalking, my dear. I found this in the bed."

He reached across me to my nightstand and held up a crumpled bit of brown paper. My heart froze in my chest.

"Sweet Avo…" I took the page with trembling hands. A thousand possibilities coursed through my mind, each more unlikely than the last, and I discarded them quickly. Had I somehow activated a Time Control spell in my sleep, traveled to Mistpeak, and opened another door? It seemed impossible. But the simplest answer was often the correct one. What troubled me the most was that the simplest answer was that the Rose in red had been speaking the truth, and that it had been no dream, at all.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps nothing," I said, scanning the terrible record of Rose's suffering in the bitter cold of winter in Bowerstone. "I cannot tell for certain. I dreamed of this paper. But perhaps it was simply my mind's interpretation of my actions, if I was indeed sleepwalking. In any case, we shan't find the answer tonight." I kissed him tenderly. "We should sleep. We have a big day ahead of us."

"If you think the _day_ will be big," he replied, biting my lower lip gently, "imagine the _night_. No, the _week_. Or the month. It _could_ last for a month, you know."

"And we would die of starvation, unless the thirst got us, first," I chuckled. "And so ends the dynasty of White."

He looked at me shrewdly. "You intend to take my name, do you?"

"I worked very hard to recover it, so yes, I do."

"It seems rather fitting. Rose White. The White Rose. You might finally have a nickname, in keeping with your family's tradition."

I suppressed a shiver, remembering the warning from the _Red_ Rose.

_Your mind has been reaching out_.


	2. Chapter 2: A Woman's Hand

"My people have gained much from the sharing of our cultures, but I must respectfully admit that I am glad that this style of dress was not one of them, Your Majesty. It seems terribly uncomfortable."

Kalin, beautifully outfitted in the Auroran celebratory colors of red and gold, watched me with a mixture of amusement and concern as Jasper expertly laced the corset of an elaborate gown—a wedding gown.

"Take a deep breath, madam," Jasper grunted, tugging the strings with a strength that belied his age.

"May I ask why you are going through with this?" the Auroran woman asked.

"The marriage?" I murmured, trying to keep my body still as Jasper worked.

"No, the marriage I understand," she replied. "I have seen the people. They are overjoyed that Reaver Industries has been dissolved. But they are still more pleased by this union, for, if it is not too bold to say so…I believe that they see this as a means for their Queen to curtail his wicked behavior. In Aurora, we have a very old saying: 'When a man kneels to take a woman's hand in marriage, he remains on his knees forever.'"

I could not help shaking with silent laughter. Clearly, whoever had coined that phrase had never known a man like Reaver. "I love him just as he is. I am not marrying him to reform him or to control him."

"I know. But the people do not, and that is very good for you, Your Majesty, and for him. What I do not understand is this _dress_."

"If I know my future husband, it will not be long before you do," I said, smiling—it was so pleasing to have a friend. After the war, Kalin and I had grown very close. She knew the burden of leadership in the face of annihilation, as I did, and our temperaments were similar. She was a deeply restful woman, full of wisdom and a perfect sense of personal honor. Now that we had broken through the walls of total formality, we had become more than political allies.

"This odd shape forces your body to conform, or suffocate!" Kalin continued, closer to true dismay than I had seen her since the war. "In Aurora, we prefer to use soft padding to create a shape that gives elegant uniformity of figure. In the desert, one cannot afford to be short of breath. And this white fabric…white is the color of mourning in your country, is it not? It seems hardly fitting for a marriage."

"True, but that is very subjective," I answered, turning to face her. Her body was decorated with numerous tattoos made from the dyes of sacred flowers—all of them blue, the color of mourning in Aurora, to serve as a reminder of her losses. "Besides…without sorrow, how would we recognize joy?"

Her eyes softened, and she smiled. "You are beautiful, my Queen, in sorrow and in joy. I hope that today brings you more of the latter than the former."

"Kalin…" I had run out of words for this kind, strong woman. But I knew that silence was the ideal time for action. Jasper sensed my intentions and stood back with a small smile as I lifted a carved wooden box from a cushion and held it out to her. She took it with both hands, as was only proper in Aurora, taking a long moment to show her appreciation by tracing the carvings with her painted hands.

"Your taste is very fine, Your Majesty," she said formally, bowing her head. It was an Auroran custom to avoid appearing overeager when receiving a gift. It would be grossly impolite to open it until she was prompted. She had taught me much about her culture during our time together, and I had come to deeply appreciate it. The people of Aurora took nothing for granted, and it made their gestures that much more meaningful.

"Please open it, my friend. I hope that it pleases you, humble though it is." Mild self-deprecation was another key aspect of the ritual.

She bowed her head again and lifted the lid. When she saw what was inside, her eyes widened slightly, but she showed no other outward signs of surprise. Her composure was legendary.

"I am not worthy of this," she whispered at last, genuinely shaken. It was no ritual.

I knelt, the ruffles of my wide skirt rustling as they pooled around me. I bowed deeply, as was customary, and placed my hands before my face, covering it. I had practiced this with Jasper several times to be certain my form was proper. This was not a moment an Auroran woman experienced more than once or twice in a lifetime.

"Kalin, daughter of honored Kaor—may his spirit smile on you, always, as he watches over you in the valley of plenty—you saved my brother, Logan, from the Darkness, when he was merely a foreigner in your besieged land. Four years later, you saved my life, and the life of my…my father. Sir Walter Beck. You risked your life and the lives of your people in order to aid me in defending our lands against the Crawler. Our countries came together as one."

I felt Kalin take my hands in hers, pulling them away from my face to show her acceptance. Had she rejected me, she would have been free to walk away without shaming either of us, so long as I hid my face. Her eyes were deeply serious as she lifted a bolt of cloth from the box. I had woven it, myself, in the six holy colors of Aurora. She wrapped one loop over our joined right hands.

"Rose, daughter of honored Walter—may his spirit smile on you, always, as he watches over you in the valley of plenty—it would be my greatest honor to become your hearth sister. In red, we proclaim our love for one another, and for our kin. We are one."

I wound another length of the cloth over our wrists. "In orange, we proclaim the strength of our bond. Together, we are greater than the sum of our parts."

"In yellow," Kalin said softly, wrapping another length, "we proclaim our faith in the prosperity that we can achieve together, regardless of the whims of nature and of our gods."

"In green, we proclaim our shared growth, for our intellectual and spiritual minds will flourish so long as we live."

"In blue…" She closed her eyes briefly, lowering her head. "In blue, we proclaim our respect for our honored dead, who are now joined as kin. May we live in such a way that their names are always spoken with reverence."

I placed the final loop over our joined hands. "In purple, we proclaim our dreams of a better future as hearth sisters. When we pass from this life, we will meet again in the valley of plenty, in the house of our ancestors. May they bless this union."

"It is done," we said together.

"Will you stand with me, today?" I asked her as we pulled our hands from the complicated knot without untying it and placed it carefully in the box.

"Of course, Rose," she answered with a warm smile. "In Aurora, a woman prepares the way for her hearth sister on the day of her wedding. It is customary for her to meet with the groom before the ceremony, that she might test his worthiness."

"And if he fails?"

"Then he may choose to pay a ransom for the right to claim his bride," Kalin said, almost wickedly. "This can be taken literally, in the form of goods or gold, but it can also be taken out in service. There are many among us who prefer to make the unworthy man dance for our amusement, or perform comedic follies until we are satisfied that he has proven his love for our honored sister."

"I beg your pardon, madam," Jasper said with tentative eagerness, "but are any other members of the bridal party allowed to watch the display? Oh dear, that _was_ in poor taste, wasn't it? Forgive me."

I laughed, leaning against Kalin's shoulder while she smiled and shook her head. "I am afraid that this trial is for the eyes of the women, only. However, during an Auroran wedding feast, the men have their turn at mischief."

"_Mischief_? Dear, dear, what delicious ideas are you filling my wife's head with, Kalin? Do go on."

Reaver sauntered into the room, immaculately dressed in white, black, and silver. He had abandoned his hat for the occasion, but he carried a cane that almost certainly concealed a thin sword.

"She is not yet yours," Kalin said proudly, standing. "You must win her from me before you may claim her."

Reaver's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I must _what_?"

"Master Reaver, please!" Jasper said, scandalized, attempting to screen me from view while I lost myself in fits of laughter. "You cannot be here. A man _must not _see his bride in her gown before the wedding. It brings bad luck."

"I chose that gown. I know what it looks like," he said dismissively, attempting—but failing—to wave Jasper away. "I have never been a superstitious man, anyway. Customs come and go, and they are often rooted in ignorance and savagery."

Kalin looked over her shoulder at me and quirked an eyebrow. "I believe it will be the dance, after all, honored sister. I do not need his gold. I will take his pride."

"Is that so?" Reaver looked her up and down appreciatively. "No one has succeeded in that particular feat, though many have tried. Do you really believe you are up to the task, my exotic little nymph?"

"I do," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"I believe _that_ is my future-_wife's_ line. But you have piqued my interest, nevertheless." His gaze shifted to me for several moments, gauging my reaction. I inclined my head in approval, and he smirked, turning back to Kalin. "Very well, then. Since my bride has insisted on marrying beneath the moonlight, I suppose I have some time to spare. I do so hate being bored. I accept your ridiculous challenge. Diplomatic relations are so very important, after all, and I suppose it would be rather droll to observe the backward customs of your alleged…'culture', Kalin. My dear Rose certainly appears rather fond of it."

"If I may make a suggestion," Jasper cut in somewhat exasperatedly, "I believe it would be better for you to return to your own party, Master Reaver, and name your Best Man."

Reaver snorted with laughter. "Why on earth would I do that? I am the best man I know, after all!"

"Surely _someone_ will stand up with you," Jasper insisted.

"Jasper," I said softly with a barely-discernible shake of my head. "Please let the matter rest." I gave him a meaningful look, and his eyes widened briefly as he realized his error. _No one_ was willing to stand beside Reaver in this marriage. There were no groomsmen, nor was there a Best Man. He was one of the most hated men in Albion. I forced a smile. "Reaver and I are breaking with tradition. This is a union of cultures, as well as hearts and houses. We will be combining the wedding customs of Aurora and of Albion, as you know. How can we deny him his unique choice when I have made a few of my own? It would be unforgivably hypocritical."

Reaver's smirk never wavered, but in his eyes, I spotted a faint trace of pain. Saving his dignity had been no true service, for everyone in the room clearly knew that this was indeed what I had done, and that was a bit of an insult in itself. I suppressed a sigh of frustration. I knew Reaver better than anyone in Albion, but I still had much to learn.

"If that is all, my Queen, I believe I will prepare myself for whatever nonsensical scheme your dear Kalin has in mind for me. You look lovely, by the way, my dear. Ta!"

He exited the room, the long ends of his jacket whipping through the closing doors just swiftly enough to avoid becoming trapped between them. Jasper let out a long sigh, then smiled.

"Hook, line, and sinker, just as you said. Shall I fetch the real dress now, madam?"

Kalin cocked her head to the side. "The _real _dress?"

My spirits brightened, despite my awkward mistake. "Yes, there are _some_ traditions I intend to uphold. I knew he would come here; he has very little respect for superstition and personal privacy. It will be such a surprise when he sees the one I _intend_ to wear for the wedding."

The Auroran beauty smiled warmly, returning to her chair. "Then let us hope, honored sister, that he is as good a dancer as his reputation suggests."

* * *

**Many apologies for my tardiness in getting this written, and in reading the stories I've been asked to read! I've been very sick, but with luck, I'll be better soon. Thanks very much!**


	3. Chapter 3: For the Dawn

"So, my pretty little savage, here I am, as requested."

Reaver stood in the treasury. Hobson had been shooed out of the room, despite many protests. The portly little man could hardly refuse the order of the man who would be his Prince in only eight hours, however, and the presence of Kalin, respected dignitary and reputed friend of the Queen, only served to strengthen the command. He darted out of the way and closed the door behind him, muttering something about nonsensical customs and time-wasters.

Rather than answering Reaver, Kalin clapped her hands three times. The doors opened again and a pair of women walked into the room. Page, striking as ever—if a bit stiff—in the ball gown she had once worn by Rose's side in Reaver's mansion, entered with a look of smug satisfaction on her face. She was followed closely by Hammer, shockingly beautiful in a gown of pure green and gold that brought out the tawny silver in her hair magnificently.

"Ladies," Kalin said, smiling, "please make yourselves comfortable. I believe you will find yourselves most pleased by this display, which has its roots so far back in Aurora's history that even I do not know how it originated. The idea is simple. This man wishes to claim a woman we all know to be far above him in every way. He claims to love her. We will put that to the test. She is ours until he proves himself worthy of her in our eyes."

Reaver simply rolled _his_ eyes, clearly unperturbed by the demands being made of him and confident in his ability to meet them.

"We can all agree that he is a handsome man, yes?" Kalin asked.

"That goes without saying," Reaver put in, apparently unable to help himself.

"Yeah," Hammer agreed. "Bit _too_ pretty for my tastes, actually."

"It runs only skin-deep, as everyone knows," Page said acidly. She folded her arms, tapping her foot. "What is this about, Kalin?"

"As you can see, there is a great deal of gold in sacks at your feet, all earned by our good Queen through the sweat of her brow, the shrewdness of her investments, and her willingness to risk her life for the good of our people. As you know, this man, despite his considerable wealth, did nothing to contribute to her cause—"

Reaver's jaw dropped in indignation, and he rapped his cane sharply against the floor to interrupt her. "I beg your pardon, Kalin, but that is simply not so. I offered many very lucrative suggestions. Her Majesty simply refused to take my advice. I can hardly be faulted for that."

"None of the choices you suggested would have entailed any sort of sacrifice on your part, Reaver," Page argued disdainfully, "so do spare us your platitudes."

He simply shook his head, sighing. "Erm, who invited _Page_, by the by? That gown is _so _very_ last-year_! Might we get on with this, Kalin?"

"Of course. It is likely to take some time, after all. Ladies, you will note the delicacies upon the table before you. This is likely to take some time, so I thought it only fitting that we be provided with all the comforts the kitchens could spare while preparing for the wedding feast. In the meantime, the doors have been sealed. No one goes in or out until we have made our judgment."

"And what are the rules of this little game?" Reaver asked condescendingly.

"Simply this: the treasury Queen Rose worked so hard to build has been emptied into these sacks. It must be filled once more—and this time," Kalin said, narrowing her eyes as she smiled, "you shall be the one to see to that. You will earn this gold with your sweat, with a small taste of the humility your bride-to-be has demonstrated. In this way, you shall prove to us your love for her, and your worthiness to be her husband."

"Ah-hmm," he replied skeptically. "And what is to stop me from simply leaving, exactly? This sounds even more ridiculous that I had expected—and believe me, that _is _saying something."

Kalin was ready for him. She inclined her head. "If you do not believe yourself up to the task, it will fall to me to tell Queen Rose that you went back on your word—which you gave in her presence, as you will recall. Do you want a pleasant wedding night, Reaver? If you succeed, her admiration and pity for your ordeal will surely make her most…gracious."

"Ahh, _blackmail_, is it?" he answered with a smirk. "I thought as much. Very well, then. I shall play, I suppose. Tell me, how shall I refill the treasury?"

"You will dance, Reaver, and perhaps sing, as well," the Auroran woman said smoothly. "We shall decide how well you perform, and you will continue to do so until the treasury is full…or until you collapse from exhaustion."

Reaver's booming laugh echoed through the emptied treasury. "Oh, my poor little painted tart, in this you are outmatched, I fear. Surely you must have heard by now that my stamina is legendary. I do not tire easily."

Kalin delivered the _coup de_ _grace _with an innocent smile, spreading her hands and lowering herself elegantly into her chair at the tableside. "Then this should be a simple matter for you, should it not? Oh, and while we are on the subject of your prowess, I suggest that you make good use of your ability to _dodge_. As guests of the Queen, we can hardly be expected to move from our seats, so we shall be tossing what gold you earn at your feet, and Lady Hammer is rather strong, as you know."

Reaver bowed deeply. "You may take your best shot. I suggest allowing our dear Hammer to do all of the throwing, however; _your_ arms are likely to grow very tired, indeed."

"With pleasure," Hammer said, relishing the chance to brain him with the gold he seemed to love so much. She had already decided that she would not be aiming for his feet unless he stopped dancing.

"That is sage advice, so shall I return the favor, Reaver," Kalin said, unruffled. "You will likely earn more money if you are willing to dance without your clothes. I am quite certain that you know this to be true, given your…tastes."

He hesitated for only the barest moment before shrugging out of his coat. "I see. Very well, then. One caveat, if I may…" With one booted toe, he nudged his cane into the air and caught it deftly, unsheathing the sword within in the same motion. "Hammer, if you so much as _think _of unmanning me with one of those coins, I will bloody well _end you_."

* * *

Hours later, a much abused but intact Reaver stood before all of Albion—or so it seemed. Though the hour was ridiculously late, in keeping with Auroran custom, it seemed that every noble, commoner, beggar, and thug had turned out to watch the wedding of their saintly Queen to a man who had once shot an innocent worker to death in front of her. Jasper heard more than a few discourteous murmurs from his seat in the front row, but he had seen far too much to pay any heed to them.

Candles lit the path from the entrance to the Market, all the way to the Castle gate, where Reaver stood, along with an Auroran priestess, who would preside over the wedding. It might have seemed almost funereal, but for the roses. They were everywhere, on window sills, climbing houses, blooming on the Monument to the Fallen at the center of town, and lining the path, itself, beside the candles. Everyone who attended had been given a candle and a rose, as well. People had taken to wearing the flowers as symbols of their patriotism, lately, but these new ones were beyond anything anyone had ever seen. They did not fade or wither; they retained their freshness, and no amount of clumsiness seemed enough to crush them.

Something nudged Jasper's ankle, and he glanced down at the mechanical dog Ernest Faraday had made for Rose. The mechanized canine was highly intelligent—a true credit to Faraday's genius—but a trifle confused of late, because he seemed to have several names. Rose had fondly named him "Swift" after her own departed dog, who had been named for her childhood hero, Major Swift (then only a Captain, but already very famous). Reaver, on the other hand, consistently called him "Rustbucket" or "that _thing_ which is _not _to be allowed on the _bed_." Jasper privately agreed with him, though wild horses would not have dragged—

A deafening cheer rose, and Swift Rustbucket wagged his tail against the cobblestones and lifted his head curiously. The cheer died down very quickly to soft sounds of admiration, and even the bards seemed to falter. Jasper glanced at Reaver, who had borne so much hardship in the past few months…Reaver, who had once tried to kill Rose in his mansion…Reaver, who had preserved Rose's spirit by doing for her what she could not when the time came to put an end to the Shadow Court. He looked so very alone, standing there, though he seemed in no way uncomfortable with it. He wore his characteristic smirk, as though the loathing of the people only served to strengthen him. Yet Jasper knew that though he was no ordinary man, he _was_ a man, nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Jasper stood with as much grace as he could muster—which was quite a lot, incidentally—and stepped up to the altar, standing beside and just behind Reaver.

"What do you think you are doing?" Reaver hissed through his smile.

"What you deserve, Master Adrian. Now, please shut up and pretend this was intentional."

"Hear, hear," came a whispered voice from beside Jasper. Ernest Faraday had followed Jasper's lead, much to the surprise of the other two men. He leaned on a walking stick, though he was looking a great deal healthier since his reinstatement in Bowerstone Industrial. Swift Rustbucket seemed to take this for his cue to bound up to them, as well. He gazed adoringly up at Reaver and then promptly collapsed on top of his boots, his rubber tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted. Reaver grunted—his toes seemed more than a bit sore—but made no move to push the mechanical creature away from him. His attention was fixed elsewhere.

A glow Jasper had come to know well approached. The tall, broad figure of Lady Hammer and the considerably smaller one of Page were lit from the back more than the sides, despite the candles. They made their way to the altar, followed by Kalin, who walked with her head held high. She looked almost like a sort of avatar of Avo, so bright was the light behind her, and so serene was her expression. Tiny bells embroidered on her girdle chimed as she moved. She stood in the direct center of the dais and bowed to the priestess, but whatever else she might have done was at that moment lost to Jasper, because he could see Rose, now.

She was the source of the brightness, and she had discarded the elaborate ruffles and voluminous skirts Reaver had foisted upon her. She wore the simplest dress in her wardrobe. Her only decoration was a thin circlet, which she had chosen in favor of her crown for the occasion. Her brother, Logan, held her arm tucked beneath his, clearly uncomfortable, but unwilling to entrust this duty to anyone else.

Reaver seemed to have stopped breathing. Jasper surreptitiously clapped him on the back, and he let out a rush of air, nearly choking, as he stared at her.

No one present could doubt the happiness of the Queen, now. Her smile was pure rapture, and her skin had never before glowed so fiercely as it did, now. Her narrow skirt fluttered around her ankles as she glided toward them—she appeared to be trying to hurry Logan along, though he put up an admirable amount of barely-concealed restraint. It was clear to all that this was very likely the happiest night of her life.

"You're a lucky bastard, Reaver," old Ernest said quietly.

"Professor, you don't know the half of it," Jasper replied dryly out of the corner of his mouth.

Reaver, for once, had no comment. He seemed torn between the enormity of what was happening and the surprise that not one, but two men had stood up with him—one of whom he had sent to prison, no less. He could not tear his eyes away from Rose, but he clasped Jasper's shoulder for the barest of moments before dropping his hand to his side once more.

Rose and Logan reached the platform, and Logan placed his sister's hands in one of Kalin's. Kalin took Reaver's hands, as well, standing between them. Logan seemed not to know where he was meant to be for a few seconds, glanced at the chairs in the front row as though considering taking one for himself, then sighed and stood between Jasper and Ernest at Reaver's side, looking very grim.

Kalin faced the crowd, still holding Rose's hands in one of hers and Reaver's in the other. When she spoke, every word was measured, and every guest was silent.

"People of Albion!" she cried, the rich alto of her voice resonating warmth. "This is far more than a wedding of two souls. Tonight, the cultures of Albion and Aurora are made one by example of the Crown. It is in the spirit of this that I call forth witnesses to the worthiness of the souls who stand before us, that _we_, the united peoples of Albion and Aurora, might bless their union in our hearts and with our voices."

She nodded to Jasper, who had only a vague idea of what he was supposed to be doing. According to Kalin, Aurorans did not rehearse vows, the better to allow what was truly in the heart to come forth, no matter how simple. He cleared his throat again—something seemed to be stuck in it, and his eyes were stinging. Looking away from Rose helped, but only slightly.

"I…I am Jasper. I stand as a witness to the worthiness of Rose, daughter of Sparrow. I have dedicated my life to serving this family," he said, gathering momentum, "and I can say with utmost confidence that were she alive to see this day, Queen Sparrow would be…very proud, indeed, of what her children h-have accomplished together." His voice broke for a moment, and he drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Queen Rose has surpassed all possible expectations in every way. I have seen her nearly every day of her life, and she…she is _worthy_, worthy of love, worthy of respect, worthy of every honor. I stake my very life on it, and...and I…oh for Avo's sake, Ernest, say something, will you?"

The inventor patted Jasper's arm reassuringly. "I understand, my friend. I, er, I've been out of circulation for a few years, ladies and gentlemen…I missed out on the Battle for Albion, and I must admit that I'm rather relieved. I'm a man of peace; above all things, I abhor war. But Queen Rose taught me that war is sometimes a necessary evil. We cannot all hide behind hopes for a better tomorrow. Someone has to stand up and _make_ that tomorrow, and not just with quaint little theme parks and idealistic promises about the future, as I admit with some degree of shame that I have. Queen Rose is a woman of peace, but also a woman of _action_, and the very fact that I am _standing_ here is proof of her goodness. She saved my life, liberated me from unjust imprisonment, and with the help of the man she intends to marry tonight, gave me back my livelihood. If you want my opinion, I say they're _both_ worthy."

"Logan?" Kalin prompted quietly.

"You do not need my word to prove Rose's worth," Logan said gravely. "She demonstrates it every day."

"Very well," Kalin said. "Who will speak for the worthiness of Adrian White, the man we have so long known as _Reaver_?"

Page and Hammer exchanged dark glances, but it was Logan who spoke up, stepping forward.

"I realize that my word counts for very little after the atrocities I have committed," he said loudly, "but I have _seen_ the devotion this man holds for my sister, and I _will_ say that he _has _earned the right to marry her, if she will have him."

"He bled for her," Jasper added, "in a very literal sense. He sacrificed his well-being for hers. There is nothing in this world that he loves more than she. I, too, have seen this for myself."

"That does seem to be the truth," Page said slowly. "Reaver Industries is a memory, now. Bowerstone is free and its people are safe. He has also supported the changes in the government, though they will move him further away from power. That's something."

Hammer sighed. "And you can't deny that any kids they have are bound to be bloody adorable, can you? Besides, he danced naked for six hours to prove how much he loves her. Damn good singing voice, too. Who knew? But my shoulder's never going to be the same again. Had to chuck the whole treasury at him before he'd stop."

"I did warn you, in fairness," Reaver murmured with a sly smile.

"Yeah, take good care of him, eh, Rosie?" Hammer added quietly. "I might've…been a little too keen. Old grudges, and all."

Rose's eyes widened with shock. "_Kalin_?!"

Kalin winked at Reaver before answering her. "I assure you, he took his hazing well. He did not cry out a single time, despite the welts. He was very brave."

Rose's look of intense concern brought a wide grin to Reaver's lips. "Never again will I question the wisdom of Auroran customs—actually, that is almost certainly a complete lie, but, well, you get the idea, Kalin."

Kalin smiled and addressed the crowd. "Queen Rose, in accordance with Auroran tradition, has named me her Hearth Sister. Her happiness is my happiness, her well-being my well-being. It is my honor to give the final word which will seal the Witnessing. I give it now: this match is worthy."

She joined the hands of the couple and stepped off to the side. The Auroran priestess finally spoke.

"In Aurora, we marry beneath the moon because we have faith in the dawn to come. So it is with this union. As joyous as this occasion is, the great dawn is still to come, and with it, a brighter future—not only for the souls before us, but for all of us." She held out a lit candle. "Let all present bestow their blessing by joining the whole."

Reaver and Rose lit candles from her flame, then lit those belonging to the gathered parties, who made their way to the guests and spectators, until all of Bowerstone was alight, from the Market to Industrial, to the docks of Old Town.

* * *

**Many apologies again for tardiness! Still very sick, but hopefully good news is on the horizon! Thanks to everyone for their support! **

**angelacm, kami2015, and Era-Age, you have been so patient with me, and I am eternally grateful for your many kindnesses-more than I can say.**


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